


nothin' she can do about it

by saysthemagpie



Series: hazoff kink exploration [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Feminization, Gender Identity, Kink Exploration, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:05:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11236347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saysthemagpie/pseuds/saysthemagpie
Summary: jeff and harry fooling around, or: harry-in-panties smut with a dash of complicated gender feelings.





	nothin' she can do about it

**Author's Note:**

> probably this should go in my tumblr ficlets series because it isn't very long, but goddammit, there's so little fic in the hazoff tag that i think it deserves its own post. 
> 
> also i tagged this fem kink but it's also kinda gender exploration? it's dirty talk AND figuring shit out about yrself, because -- to quote one of my fave novels, Imogen Binnie's _Nevada_ : 
> 
> "...Your kinks aren’t arbitrary things your brain comes up with. They’re not coincidences from childhood that you fetishize. Or: they could be. But kinks are arrows giving you directions. If you’re hot for being whipped, that probably says something about your relationship to guilt and punishment, or pain, or something. If you want someone to slap you and call you a stupid little girl, that probably says something about your relationship to ever having been a little girl and feeling stupid for or about it. It’s always complicated and emotionally volatile but there’s also no reason to be ashamed of it."
> 
> but anyway, I guess I'd tag for people using gendered language to refer to their junk/other people's junk, if that's not your jam.

After dinner they go upstairs. Jeff can tell that Harry’s itching to get naked from the way he keeps brushing his fingers over the buttons on his shirt and then dropping his hands to his side, looking beseechingly at Jeff.

Jeff ignores him, just a little. He goes into the walk-in closet and takes off the slacks and button-down he’d worn to dinner, trading them for a soft grey tshirt and a set of worn track shorts instead. They’ll be at it for a while tonight, he expects, and he might as well be comfortable.

Harry’s still standing in the middle of the bedroom when he comes out again. He hasn’t moved, from the looks of it. Jeff’s pleased with him. He lets Harry see it on his face, his approval, and watches as Harry’s own expression shifts, till he’s glowing with it.

“Bet you’d like to get out of those clothes,” Jeff says. He casts a sympathetic glance at the bulge of Harry’s dick, straining against the confines of his skintight jeans, and then slowly drags his gaze back up Harry’s body, finally meeting his eyes.

Harry’s staring back at him, his eyes already slightly glassy. His lips part, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. His fingers stray towards his shirt again, then drop, waiting for permission.

“Here,” Jeff says, stepping forward. He reaches up and begins unbuttoning Harry’s shirt, slowly, until it hangs loose around his shoulders. “Hang it up,” he says. “Shoes off, too.” 

Harry nods, letting the silky fabric slip down around his shoulders. He disappears into the closet, reemerging a moment later in his jeans and his bare feet, tattoos dark against his pale skin. 

Jeff hooks his fingers under the waistband of Harry’s jeans, tugging him closer, and Harry goes easily. He sighs into the kiss, body going soft and pliant. When Jeff starts to unzip his jeans, though, Harry catches his wrist, the first time he’s moved without being told since Jeff started undressing him.

“Can I?”

Jeff nods, stepping back. He watches as Harry quickly pushes down his jeans and shimmies out of them, kicking them away before straightening up. He’s wearing panties. Silk ones, and new, or new to Jeff, at least. They’re a dark emerald green, the color stunningly rich against the milky white of his skin. He’s half-hard already, dick tenting out the front of his underwear, a damp patch showing where he’s been leaking onto the silk.

Harry ducks his head, tugging self-consciously at the thin strip of lace round the waistband. Jeff takes a step forward without thinking, smoothing a hand down Harry’s side, fingers stroking over the soft pudge just above his hips. It’s not how he’d expected to play tonight, but it’s not entirely unexpected.

At some point they should probably talk about it, Jeff thinks - the fact that Harry seems to want it like this more and more lately, asking for it in every way he can without saying it out loud. But it can wait. He smacks Harry’s ass lightly instead, pushing him gently towards the bed.

“Face down, ass up,” he says. “Do you want your hands tonight?”

Harry shakes his head. He clambers obediently onto the bed and lies down on his belly, lacing his fingers together behind his back. Jeff fetches the lube and the lined cuffs from the top drawer of the dresser before climbing onto the bed next to him.

Harry lies quietly as Jeff snaps on the cuffs, testing them as always to make sure they’re not too tight, that the slight strain in Harry’s shoulders is more pleasurable than uncomfortable. It’s only when Jeff sits back to admire the picture he makes, all trussed up and bare for him, clad only in a scrap of emerald silk, that Harry starts getting antsy, squirming a little like he’s afraid Jeff’s forgotten about him. 

Jeff lets him squirm. Then he leans forward and slides his palm over the slight curve of Harry’s ass, cupping one cheek and squeezing lightly.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” he says. “My pretty girl.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath. He sounds overwhelmed already, even though they’ve only just barely begun. Jeff gives him a minute. He lets his hand drift down the smooth, almost hairless backs of Harry’s thighs, stroking over his calves, touching his ankles, before drifting back up again. As he touches him he talks to Harry in a soft, soothing voice, telling him how lovely he looks, how perfect, until Harry’s relaxed again, body melting into the mattress.

He chooses his next words carefully. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and he knows, generally, the things that work, the words that help ease Harry into the place he wants Jeff to take him. But it changes, sometimes, the things Harry feels comfortable with, and Jeff doesn’t want to misread it.

“S'all right if I touch your pussy a little, sweetheart?” he says. “Want to feel how wet you are for me.”

A long, slow shiver runs down Harry’s back. But he nods, or tries to, his cheek pressed against the pillow, fingers curling against the insides of his wrists in anticipation. Jeff snicks open the bottle of lube and drizzles a generous amount onto his fingers, careful to keep it out of Harry’s line of sight–the illusion’s part of it, he knows, Harry imagining that he’s wet for Jeff, really wet, all slick and ready for the taking. When Jeff’s satisfied he shifts up the bed a little to get a better angle. Then he slides his hand carefully down the back of Harry’s silk panties, fingers slipping along the crack of his arse, smearing him wet as he goes.

Harry makes a choked little noise at the feel of the lube against his skin: cold at first, but already warming to the heat that’s coming off him like a furnace. He rolls his hips against the mattress, rubbing himself against the sheets, before he catches himself and stills, tensing guiltily. Jeff doesn’t comment. He knows Harry’s had partners before who were much stricter about that kind of thing, more exacting in their expectations. Quicker to find faults that necessitated punishment, or at least a temporary withholding: of approval, praise, even an orgasm.

Jeff doesn’t have a problem with that, per say. It’s just not his style. Instead he pets at Harry’s rim with the pads of his fingers, watching the way the muscles in Harry’s back and shoulders shift beneath his skin.

“Look at you,” he says softly. “Dripping for me, aren’t you. You want it, sweetheart, don’t you. That’s all right, that’s lovely. You’re so lovely.”

Harry makes a muffled sound. Jeff can see he’s biting at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the plush of it.

“You can talk,” he says. Now that Harry’s nice and slick, he can focus on rubbing slowly at the tight, furled bud of his entrance, gently encouraging the muscles to relax. “D'you want something?”

“Want to be good,” Harry whimpers. His face is already flushed pink, his lips bitten red, and Jeff can tell how hard he’s trying not to squirm. “Please, I - I want - ”

“You are being good,” Jeff tells him, even though he knows perfectly well what Harry’s asking for–more, and faster, rougher. He knows it drives Harry half mad sometimes, how slow they go at first, how slow Jeff makes them go. Harry’s always so eager to get to the action, always so quick to roll over and spread his legs for him, wanting to show Jeff just how well he can take it. Jeff appreciates the enthusiasm, but not the almost frantic edge he sometimes senses in it. Like Harry feels compelled to prove he’s worth the attention Jeff lavishes on him.

Jeff won’t let himself be rushed. But he can give Harry a taste of what he wants, just a little to tide him over. He presses the edge of his nail to the rim of Harry’s hole, hard enough to make him tense. Then, while Harry’s still clenched up, he presses a finger inside without warning, forcing it in up to the second knuckle.

Harry groans low in his throat. His wrists flex, hips jerking off the bed as he tries to push back onto Jeff’s finger. 

“Don’t be a slut, sweetheart,” Jeff says mildly, twisting the finger inside him. “Take what I give you.”

He eases in a second finger, Harry’s panties stretched tight against his wrist. Harry swallows another, louder groan. He turns his face to the side, lips parting as he pants for breath.

“Please,” he says, voice ragged. “Please, Jeff, I -“ He swallows again, throat working, and forces out, “Th-thank you.”

“That’s better,” Jeff says, his tone warm with approval. Harry’s fingers curl again, plucking at the cuffs. “There’s my polite girl, asking so nicely.”

He’s still managing to play it cool, even though he’s so hard that it hurts, from the feeling of how hot Harry is inside, the thought of how tight he’ll be around Jeff’s cock, later. Maybe he’ll fuck him with the panties still on, tugged to the side so he can sink slowly into that tight heat.

“What do you want, babe?”

“I want,” Harry says, and then breaks off. “I want - it,“ he finishes lamely.

Jeff slides his fingers almost all the way out, pads pressing against the rim of Harry’s ass, then pushes them slowly back in, deeper this time. “Have to be more specific, H. Have to tell me what you really want.”

Harry worries at his bottom lip again for a moment, then says, a little bolder, “Want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Mm,” Jeff says. “Where should I fuck you, sweetheart? Your mouth?”

Harry shakes his head. He seems to struggle with the words for a moment, lips moving but no sound coming out.

“That’s all right,” Jeff says quickly, afraid he’s pushed too far. “You don’t - ”

Harry cuts him off. “Want you to fuck my pussy,” he says in a clear voice, and then flushes, cheeks red with embarrassment, burying his face in the pillow again. He doesn’t come up for air for an alarmingly long time.

Jeff carefully slides his fingers out of him and wipes them on the sheets. He unlocks the cuffs and takes them off, gently, putting them to the side. Then he crawls up the bed, stretching out on his side next to Harry.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me, H.”

Harry heaves in a breath, shoulders tense. Finally, though, he turns his head to look at Jeff. “What,” he says, a touch of defiance in his voice.

Jeff scoots forward a little. He brushes his mouth against Harry’s, in a quick, almost chaste kiss, before drawing back.

“You’re hot,” he says. “You know that? You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“‘M weird,” Harry mumbles. “Can’t even - I dunno.”

“Can’t what,” Jeff says.

Harry huffs out a breath. “Can’t even ask for, like - I want stuff, and I don’t - I dunno. I dunno why I want it, or if it’s stupid, or just. Weird.”

“Weird’s okay,” Jeff says. “Weird’s good, I think. If it feels - if it makes you feel good. If you like it then, um - it’s good, right?” He makes a face. “God, sorry. This is why I don’t give interviews, clearly, ‘cause I’m shit at talking.”

“You’re great at talking,” Harry says, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Really profound stuff, that. Can I put it in a song?”

“Heyy.”

“ _If you like it then, um / then it’s good, right_ ,” Harry warbles, in a rather impressive imitation of Jeff’s singing voice.

“I knew you were listening to me in the shower!” Jeff pokes him in the shoulder. “You were just pretending to be asleep.”

“Personally I think of it as, like, taking lessons,” Harry says. “Been taking notes on the greats. My rock idols. There’s Stevie Nicks, the Eagles, and then you - “

Jeff shuts him up with a well-aimed pillow to the face. Harry shrieks in outraged delight, kicking at him, long limbs everywhere. Jeff rolls on top of him – a flailing Harry is a true danger to himself and others, he’s learned the hard way – and pins him to the mattress, holding his wrists. Harry puts up a halfhearted attempt at an escape, before going docile and quiet under him again.

Jeff slots a leg between Harry’s thighs, rocking forward a little, so Harry can feel the semi he’s sporting. He’s not going to push it or anything, just. He wants Harry to know that it turns him on too, and not just because it’s kinky – the panties and everything, the dirty talk. It turns him on because it’s Harry, and because the thing he likes best, the weird thing he’s into, is making Harry feel good.

“I’d really like to fuck you, if you still want that,” he says. “But it’s also cool if we just, like, take a shower and cuddle for a bit.” 

“Will you, um.” Harry licks his lips. “Will you keep saying that stuff?” 

“Which stuff?” Jeff says, a bit cautiously.

“Oh, come on.” Harry rolls his eyes. He’s still a little pink, but there’s an edge of laughter in his voice. “Do I really have to say it all out loud again? Fine, can you say I’m a good girl and I’ve got a - a pussy and I’m so wet for you, can you say all that?”

“Yeah,” Jeff says, his voice going a little rough. “Yeah, I can definitely do that.”

“And that I’m polite,” Harry adds. “Put that in too.”

“Bossy,” Jeff says. “Should make you get down on your hands and knees and organize my closet instead. Teach you a lesson.”

Harry shivers at that, a real, full-body shiver.

“What, seriously?” Jeff says, incredulous, and then shakes his head, laughing. “You know what, never mind. Let’s just - let’s do the easy stuff now, and then we can unlock the real weird shit later, yeah?”

“ _Weird’s okay_ ,” Harry sings off-key, right into his face, “ _weird is good_ \- ”

“Hush, you,” Jeff says, and kisses him quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://saysthemagpie.tumblr.com)!


End file.
